Masks
by Shadows42
Summary: The Generation of Miracles, as we know them, are incredibly strong and overpowering. But maybe it was all just a mask. Maybe they suffered something deep inside, unknown to all but each other. After all, everyone has their own burden to carry every day. A much, much more serious take on the Generation of Miracles and the breaking of their bonds.
1. A Strong Bond

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Very sad, but happy too; I would ruin it if I did...

* * *

Underneath the strong façade of a strong team, the Generation of Miracles are all different people.

Truly, it's quite amazing how well they worked as a team for their first two years.

And so, it's not so surprising how they drifted apart during their later years.

**Kise Ryouta** was the only one to join in the second year, not the first. Underneath his mask of a happy, bubbly, princely exterior, Kise had always had problems with attention. He was adopted. His parents had abandoned him when he was aged three, and then taken him back when he was five. He was once again cast away at the age of eight. He wore his mask, because he needed the attention. He craved it, just as a smoker craved nicotine. Perhaps even more. Basketball brought him this attention; he was good at it, he was _praised_ when he played basketball.

**Midorima Shintarou** had not always been superstitious. His parents were both psychologists, but they didn't help people. They took out their mind games on their little boy, tearing and shattering his mind apart. They were experts, and they knew it. Midorima had once tried to cast away his obsession with the horoscopes and the paranormal, but had only succeeded in almost leading himself to his own death. Midorima's mind was hardwired into becoming superstitious, just as how we have basic survival instincts hardwired into our own brains. Basketball was the only way for him to ignore the constant nagging in his mind. The voices and random feelings went away, when all Midorima saw was the ball, the net, the players, the court.

**Murasakibara Atsushi** couldn't live without sweets. For him, unlike the others, it was more of a physical craving. His family had a long line of diabetes and other health-related problems. The doctors had once tried to force Murasakibara into not eating anything remotely sweet for a week, only to find him reduced to stealing from other homes. The second time they tried, they had succeeded, but Murasakibara had needed to be transported to the ER after he collapsed straight after the one week. Basketball was a physical activity that Murasakibara seemed to have a strange affinity for. It was the only sport that helped his physical condition, unlike tennis; which had almost taken his life.

**Aomine Daiki** hadn't always been into basketball. It was his way of escape. He lived in an abusive family. He father was an alcoholic, and his mother was almost never home. When he was seven, he first saw streetball. It was why his style of basketball wasn't as restricted as some others. Focusing on nothing but the red ball was the only way for Aomine to survive his family life. When he was eight, his father had launched a broken bottle of beer at him. His streetball-honed reflexes were the only reason his wasn't dead today.

**Akashi Seijuro **was an accident. He was the result of a secret affair between the head of a wealthy clan and a random prostitute. But there were no other heirs, so the clan had to make do with the _half_. He was trained in the harshest ways, locked up and left to starve if he made the slightest mistake. At the age of ten, his eyes had suddenly become a vivid red and gold. When he was taken to a doctor, they could only mark it down as mental trauma. Akashi had been introduced to professional basketball as an amateur when he was eleven. He had no choice but to win, win, win. If he didn't, then he would be punished. The last time Akashi was a boy was after a one-point loss on a streetball game. He was transported to the hospital ER the next day with six broken bones, a torn lung, two torn ligaments and internal bleeding in four different places.

**Kuroko Tetsuya** had never known his family. He had never known his parents, he had never known if he had siblings or relatives. He was invisible; always overlooked, unnoticed. When he was eleven, he had finally had enough of being _not there_. He had just passed by a group of five or six year olds playing streetball. But it was enough. Kuroko saw the way how each player was noticed. How each player _had_ to be noticed, or the team would lose. And he decided. The first time he played basketball, he had only succeeded in whacking himself on the head after the ball rebounded off the hoop. Even after thousands of tries, Kuroko could not shoot. So he passed. His play style shifted and changed according to others. Kuroko was an extraordinary person, his senses and observational skills were acute to the point where he could vanish from your senses within a few minutes of observing your habits. And so Kuroko began to specialise in passing. He was still overlooked, still unnoticed. But it was enough. The looks of shock when the other team finally realised what was happening was enough for Kuroko.

The Generation of Miracles weren't normal.

One had had never received the attention due to him as a child.

One had his mind ripped apart by his parents.

One could not live without sweets, mentally and physically.

One had his life saved by basketball.

One was almost killed for losing.

One was never noticed, unless he played basketball.

But they kept up a façade. They kept it up, and formed bonds. Bonds stronger than anything anyone had thrown at them.

So no one knew why they drifted apart in their third year.

But maybe even that was a façade.

The play, the personalities, the bonds, the _existence_ of the Generation of Miracles…

Could have just been a mask.

* * *

**A/N**: I understand that most of you think this is extremely cliche, boring, etc. etc. But I think it fits. Fanfics are a way for fans to express their own ideas without being sued one way or another.

And truly, the GoM seem to be very interesting people.

(I posted this separate to Bright Shadows, because it seemed to fit on its own.)

And also, sorry about the horrible formatting, but there was no other way to post it, really...

Please review!

Kage-chan!~


	2. Attention That Was Never There

"Ne, ne! Look what I did!" A five and a half-year old Kise Ryouta grinned happily as he pranced into the living room of his new house.

He didn't understand why his parents had come back for him, but he was sure they were there to help him.

After all, all parents loved their children, didn't they?

"… Okaa-san? Otou-san?" The five year old stopped, his bright grin beginning to slip.

There was no one home.

He dropped the piece of paper he had been colouring on, and ran to the door.

There was no still-unfamiliar red car parked there.

Nothing that showed signs of anyone other than him ever being there.

Kise turned, sniffing.

But he didn't cry.

_He was used to it_.

For the entire of the half-year Kise had been back with his parents, it felt like he had been living in an empty house on his own.

He cooked his own meals.

He made his own bed.

He got ready for school himself.

And he always came home to an empty house.

Whenever his parents… No, biological parents (because a real parents looks after their child), were home, they merely continued on with their life as if nothing had changed.

As if there wasn't a five-year-old that was slowly being torn apart right in front of them.

Sure, they paid for his expenses at school and other activities.

Sure, they never randomly abused him.

Sure, they didn't leave him for more than week.

But they lacked the one thing that made a parent, a parent.

Love.

They didn't love their cute little boy.

They didn't care for him.

To them, Kise Ryouta was an unnecessary accessory added onto their life.

* * *

It was when he was nine, one year after his parents had mysteriously disappeared once more, that Kise finally learnt.

He learnt to fend for himself, he learnt to show no weakness.

Kise Ryouta, the abandoned orphan that lacked and craved attention, began to weave a mask.

A mask that led him to where he is now.

He acted like the attention was due to him.

Like he was above everyone else.

And by doing so, Kise received attention.

It wasn't always good, but it was better than nothing.

* * *

It was when he was thirteen, that he first saw basketball.

He saw the way that every player on the team that won, was praised.

So he joined.

He rose quickly through the ranks of the Teikou Junior High basketball club.

And so, when he joined the first string with the rest of the Generation of Miracles, Kise Ryouta finally found himself being praised.

But he kept his mask on.

After all, he had worn that mask for over four years.

* * *

And maybe, this is why Kise never thought it weird.

Maybe this is why Kise never thought the shattering of bonds the Generation of Miracles, plus their sixth player, during their third year was strange and unnatural.

Kise Ryouta never received the attention due to him as a child.

So, when he was fourteen, and his team broke into their own separate paths, Kise Ryouta thought it was life.

Which it was.

* * *

**A/N**: I may have gotten the ages wrong...Hmm... Same difference!

Hope you liked it! (Midorima is up next!)

Please review!

Kage-chan!~


	3. Cancer is My Horoscope

Laughter…. Laughter….

It's fun.

It's carefree.

It's dangerous.

It's taunting.

It's something… That one, and one alone, can hear.

* * *

Midorima Shintarou was a smart, obedient child when he was younger.

He excelled at academics, and his sport was above average.

He obeyed his parents and teachers. He made good friends.

Everyone thought that he would grow up to become one of the most successful men even though he was only seven, but it wasn't so.

It was in his third year of primary, at seven years old, that everything began to fall apart.

* * *

Midorima couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember the last time there had been silence in his mind.

He turned to his right, and found his friend walking.

What was his name?

Hadn't he known him for years, already?

"Ara? Ah, Shin-chan!"

"_Come play with us!"_

"Did you understand the homework?"

"_I can help you…"_

"It was hard, wasn't it?"

"_Shin-chan. We'll protect you."_

"Eh? Shin-chan, are you alright?"

"_They are fake."_

"What's wrong?"

"_We are real."_

"Oi! Shin-chan! Wait!"

Midorima ran ahead.

"_Leave them. Come to us."_

* * *

Midorima may have been smart, but he didn't see that his parents… were not parents.

Instead of buying him sweets when he went shopping with them, they left him in a random alleyway by the side of an unknown street.

**At the age of five, Midorima was raped.**

When Midorima invited friends over, they drove them away with cruel, taunting games. Whenever Midorima made a new friend, he realised it was actually their parents, either for his money, or for his looks.

**At the age of six, Midorima had absolutely no one he could trust or relate to.**

Once, Midorima's parents found Midorima reading the horoscope section of their newspaper. They spent the rest of the year twisting his mind, taking joy in the screams that echoed at night.

**At the age of seven, Midorima lost half his mind.**

They saw Midorima succeeding, both academically and physically, so they didn't praise him. Instead, they began to work their way into his mind. They understood every little habit Midorima had, and used it against him.

**At the age of eight, Midorima had nothing, but his looks and natural talent.**

Midorima's parents spent the next three years driving their little baby boy deeper into his own madness.

_Horoscopes._

_Voices._

_Pictures._

_Premonitions._

_Flashbacks._

* * *

Twelve.

Midorima Shintarou was twelve, in his first year of junior high, when the smallest ray of light filtered through the shadows that had overtaken his life.

Basketball.

It was basketball that did it.

Teikou.

It was the four, later five, other members of the club, that finally brought the long lost true Midorima back.

Even if he was never going to have the blessing of childish innocence that everyone had, or even be completely sane, for Midorima, it was enough.

He would come home, to the twisted darkness that encompassed everything, brought on and controlled by his 'parents'.

Then the next day, he would head to school, and see the blinding light that was the Generation of Miracles.

* * *

This is perhaps why, when he was fourteen, that Midorima didn't try to bring his only true friends back.

When the Generation of Miracles separated and forged their own paths, Midorima did nothing, even if they were everything to him.

Because Midorima Shintarou was far too busy fighting for himself, that he could not fight for his friends.

* * *

**A/N**: Haa... Midorima was hard. I think that he will probably _the hardest_.

My goodness, I hope you didn't mind the let down!

I'll try to come back and fix it up later, but it's hectic right now...

And ideas or suggestions? Please review or PM me!

Thanks to everyone has, and thanks to you, who has already come to the third chapter!

Kage-chan!~


	4. Cake, Would You Like Some Too

"Atsushi-chan, do you want that? It's looks yummy doesn't it?" A plain-looking, black haired woman smiled at the four-year old tugging at her hand.

Murasakibara Atsushi, with shocking purple hair, nodded and smiled.

The two entered the shop and headed for the packet of sweets that had caught their eyes.

That started everything.

* * *

"Murasakibara-san, we'll need to try to slowly force this habit out of his daily life. If we can't, then things will begin to seriously go downhill for your son."

"Then…What?! What can we do?! The last time you tried, he had ended up stealing! Stealing from other people's homes! WHAT CAN YOU DO?!" The shout echoed around the white room, in which an unconscious six year old boy lay on a bed, hooked up to machines.

"It's… becoming a psychological problem, rather."

One hour later, a thoroughly exhausted mother, tense doctor and terrified nurse came to one conclusion.

Sports.

If the sweets consumed by the little boy couldn't be stopped directly, then it would begin to threaten his life. The Murasakibara family were ailed with a disease that was passed down through the generations in many different forms.

And for six year old Murasakibara Atsushi, the disease would lead to his death if he could not stop his current eating habits.

* * *

"But I don't want to!" Now ten years old, Murasakibara still acted extremely childish.

"Please, Atsushi-chan. Just for a few weeks, alright? For your Okaa-san?"

The child huffed and picked up the tennis racket.

The sport with included a small green ball, a net, two rackets and many boxes was already his twenty-fifth.

A few of them from before had been successful, but only for a while. Swimming had lasted for two months, until the boy almost drowned one time. Baseball kept his condition healthy for three weeks, before the snack-addicted child's condition suddenly took a turn for the worse.

"Okaa-san, if I play for the few weeks, can I have the packet of gummy bears you wouldn't get me last time?"

"…Yes, alright. Have fun…"

Thwack.

Bounce.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Swish.

Thwack.

_Thud_.

"ATSUSHI-CHAN!"

Pale, cold, and no pulse.

* * *

"Basketball? You mean with the hoops and all that?"

The lady of the Murasakibara house nodded enthusiastically, but no smile was on her face.

How could there be?

No normal parent would, when they had just been told that if her child did not find a regular form of exercise _immediately_, he would die. And in fact, the doctors had already lost the child once in the surgery that had followed straight after the tennis incident.

The twelve year old boy, abnormally tall and with a very dangerous addiction to certain foods, had changed from just a few years ago.

Apathetic, cold, unfeeling, uninterested.

"Get me the cake from that corner shop, and I will."

The mother nodded helplessly.

As her son walked out, her mental barriers began to break. Tears began to roll as the lady collapsed onto the floor.

She lifted the sleeve of her dress, and stared.

Stared the uncountable number of scars, some fresh, some old, that now adorned her once beautiful and pale skin.

Lifeless eyes slowly raised to the drawer marked as 'DANGEROUS - KNIVES' in the table.

* * *

"Dead?"

The police stared at the young boy, who was taller than even some of their recruits.

They nodded slowly.

"…Huh. Well, that's annoying. Who's going to get me my cake now?"

The purple eyes lazily looked back, impassive.

"U-uh, are you sure… you understand?"

"My mother's dead, right? Suicide, was it? I wonder why."

And the investigators had a feeling the boy—_monster—_had something to do with it.

But the case was already closed; suicide.

"Hey, if I continue to play basketball, will you give me that cake?"

A stammered reply, and even the police fled the empty house.

For that boy in there most definitely could not fill up the large space.

Perhaps if there was still a light in his eyes, a few tears, or even a look of disbelief.

Three days later, after winning his seventh game of basketball, the orphan received a cake.

As he sat there munching in the lonely house that was suffocated by an air of sheer _heaviness_, the boy finally felt some feeling.

And then even that was gone, buried underneath more hunger for more sweets, more cake, more snacks, more, more, more, _more, more, moremoremoremoremore—_

* * *

It took Murasakibara a grand total of two months before he began to get bored of basketball.

Nobody had ever scored a goal against him after the first six games, nobody had ever stopped his offense.

Red and gold eyes stared at him.

It was those pair of eyes that brought the boy back into reality.

A crushing defeat, in which the invincible had been unable to score more than four points.

Murasakibara Atsushi had just found a new reason to live.

Defeat the new invincible king.

Basketball was boring, but he played it nonetheless. The doctors said it was the only thing that kept him alive and healthy, unless he wanted to stay in a hospital hooked up to life-support 24/7.

And, as blue, green, yellow, blue once more and red flashed pass his eyes, Murasakibara decided that purple would complement the colours greatly.

After a few bags of those chips he had seen the other day…

* * *

The few moments it had taken for the Kiseki no Sedai to break up were truly not much to Murasakibara.

He had no reason to live; it was just far too boring to simply die. Basketball was boring and uninteresting; his teammates were strange and annoying.

When the Kiseki no Sedai went through their own thorns and puddles, Murasakibara was floating.

Suspended in his own path; a path of nothing but an endless amount of vast, conjoined puddles.

The water around him was suffocating, strangling him just like his house.

But the fourteen year old child could no longer remember what air was like.

Through the murky depths, amethyst eyes stared the receding rainbow-coloured lights, and did nothing.

There was nothing he could do.

* * *

**A/N: **Er... Well... Sorry...? ^^"

My author side has decided to go on vacation for a while, so do excuse me for a while too.

But next is Aomine Daiki; he's much easier than Murasakibara Atsushi. 100% serious.

But it was an interesting path, though it may seem a bit rushed.

Thanks for supporting me up to this point; please tell about what you think of this chapter! And the ones from before.

Kage-chan~


	5. Lifesavers, Sour and Sweet

"_GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"_

A lamp smashed.

"_YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"_

A teacup shattered.

"_NEVER COME BACK!"_

A sob echoed through the frigid night air.

"_NEVER, YOU HEAR ME?!"_

And a little boy with dark blue hair smashed through his window, cutting himself in nine separate places, before picking himself up and running with all his might.

* * *

Laughter echoed through the air.

It was the type of laughter that made you want to smile and join in; a light type of laughter that you could hardly hear anywhere now.

It was the complete opposite of the laughter a certain seven year old had always heard.

"Pass, pass!"

"Yeah, alright! Let's go!"

"Like I'll let you! We're only six points behind, argh!"

"Forty seconds, guys!"

"We'll make it! C'mon, let's pick up the pace!"

Aomine Daiki, with blood dripping from his ripped clothes and open wounds, rounded the corner of an obsolete alleyway.

Before him, spread meters by meters of concrete and painted lines. At the ends stood two metal poles, with strange hoops hung up at about three meters.

And in the middle of this 'court', as the boy would later come to know, were ten other little kids, no older than ten or eleven.

Each and every one of them were focused on a red ball that bounced around almost erratically, passing between the children at incredible paces and finally being sent into a circle of metal with a white net underneath it.

Cheers rang out from the children on the court.

This would be the first thing, and almost only thing, that Aomine Daiki would not forget about whilst having his arms and legs broken by his father.

* * *

"Whoa, you're awesome!"

"Man, you should've joined us earlier!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's go! He's on our side this time, remember?!"

Two months later, Aomine Daiki had joined the group of ten that had never failed to show up there every day at seven at night.

For the first time he could ever remember, Aomine smiled and began to enjoy himself.

"…Hey, what about your parents?"

"They don't mind right?"

"Ha, to tell the truth, I got in huge trouble when they found out just three months ago. But that was only because I never told them…"

"True that though; it's quite a late time for a seven year old to be by himself out here!"

"Oi! You're only eleven yourself, idiot!"

The boys laughed as they jokingly shoved each other around.

"…They won't mind…"

They stopped.

"My father… Never cares... And my mother is never home, anyways…"

Aomine kept his head down, hugging the basketball to him.

Like a normal boy his age might hug his favourite stuffed toy.

There was a moment of silence.

"Then who gives?! Let's play!"

"PLAYTIME, WHOO!"

"Shut up! We'll be found out!"

"Well, let's have fun!"

And the games began.

* * *

Aomine Daiki had begun to finally enjoy something.

It was easy for him to have simple fun when exhausting himself on a court, doing nothing but trying everything you could to shoot a ball into a hoop.

Streetball, as the ten boys taught him, was an easy and free thing. Everyone did their own things, still working as a team, whilst enjoying the essence of basketball.

Aomine, who dealt with an abusive father who would be jailed for life if he was ever found out, and a mother that was almost as bad, found the game as the only way for him to escape reality for a little while.

But that's what it was.

Reality.

And no one, adult, child or neither, could run away from reality forever.

* * *

"_You know? You're a piece of fucking horseshit. The only reason you're here is because the dumbasses on the government pay me money to keep you here. Why were you born? I don't know. I don't want to know."_

The boy kept his head down as his strangely docile father began to talk slowly.

"_But now, I think it's better for you to go."_

Hope for an orphanage blossomed in his heart, only to be immediately shattered and stomped out as the boy forced himself to realise his father would never be that kind.

"_So, here's my farewell, you fucking little bastard."_

A ball headed straight for his face. And from months of training, the blue-haired child used his above-average basketball talent to judge the fact that he wouldn't be able to safely catch this ball, at least not without giving away too many chances for it to be stolen.

So he dodged.

"_YOU LITTLE FUCK!"_

And so he ran.

* * *

It would be another two hours before Aomine Daiki realised exactly what had happened.

It wasn't a basketball that had been passed to him.

He hadn't been on the court.

There was no one to block him.

No.

That was a broken beer bottle, thrown precisely for his face.

If it hadn't killed him, it would have taken his nose and eyes permanently.

Another ten minutes, and Aomine would realise yet another incredible understanding.

Basketball had just saved his life; mentally, metaphorically, physically and literally.

From now on, basketball would be his everything.

* * *

At the age of fifteen, Aomine Daiki had risen to become one of the utter topmost players of the Japanese middle school basketball circuits.

He was almost completely undefeatable.

So when his team, the four people along with a certain special person, began to drift away from him, Aomine didn't know what to do.

Basketball had brought them together.

Basketball had forced them away from each other.

But for Aomine Daiki, basketball was everything.

So he wouldn't care.

As long as he could play the game that had saved his life, he wouldn't care.

It was almost a choice between basketball and his team.

And for the ace of the Kiseki no Sedai, it was an obvious choice.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that came up a bit earlier, I think.

Thanks for sticking with me, or reading up to this point!

Really, it keeps me going, you know?

Well, see you next chapter, hopefully!

Kage-chan~


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